


Text Me When You Need Me

by kurokites



Series: Fang and Vanille City AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Anatomy, Bar, Bar Fight, Bartender - Freeform, Bartender fang, College Dropout, F/F, Fang - Freeform, Lesbians, Slice of Life, Vanille - Freeform, anatomy terminology, fight, oerba dia vanille - Freeform, oerba yun fang - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokites/pseuds/kurokites
Summary: Vanille gets an ominous text from Fang after hearing nothing from her for two weeks.





	Text Me When You Need Me

Vanille was 21 sitting on the precipice of a new chapter in her life. In all the movies, 20 meant late night parties, messy apartments; driving on moonlit highways, but none of that was entailed in her daily life. She was stuck as a college dropout who was trying to keep her life afloat with a skimpy retail job. It wasn't that she was ungrateful to be getting by- just the fact that she felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy. The only time she really felt alive was when she was with Fang.  


Serendipiity had brought Fang and Vanille together in the most unconventional way. Vanille’s friends had dumped her at a block party, and Fang made her a drink and took her home. It still makes Vanille’s face twinge pink knowing the bartender had seen her at such a low. It was one of those memories that sneak up on you when sleep is just within grasp causing you to flinch with regret and embarrassment. She didn’t mind for the most part, however, because that was the first memory of Fang she had. Sometimes, Vanille would replay the gentle yet precise movements the tall bartender made for hours on end as she folded displays or arranged new floor sets. It was tragic. The two women had swapped numbers 2 weeks ago, yet Vanille hadn’t received any messages or calls. Maybe it was the world telling her, “Stop daydreaming and get a life.” She hoped not.  


A couple days later, Vanille’s prayers were answered in the form of one text message:

10:24 PM  
off early need ride asap

It wasn’t what she had thought was going to be sent, but knowing that Fang had remembered her was enough to improve her mood. The timing was concerning, though. The roads were damp from an afternoon rain that ran a little later than expected and Vanille’s car struggled to keep its headlights on bright enough to see the lanes. She drove with an air of caution about her. Something was off. And something was off: the bar’s lights. The bar closed at 2 AM seven days a week and sometimes later. Vanille picked up her phone and dialed Fang’s number. It rang 3 times before the line crackled to life.  


“Where are you? I’m out fro-”  


Fang cut the other off with only one terse statement: “Around back.”  


It wasn’t that she sounded scared or angry, but she sounded immensely calm. This eerie tranquility caused Vanille to get out of her car and slowly walk around the back of the bar. If Fang had said anything else into the phone, her heart was beating too hard to hear it. A tremor instilled itself in her extremities. It was cold and when she turned the corner, she stumbled over Fang. The brunette sat slightly dazed against the wall with her hand pressed to her mouth. That’s when Vanille saw it. It was the color of the cheerleader uniforms from high school and the dress a mother wore to a summer picnic. A deep shade that tainted memories and lined the inside of the box that would someday bury everyone six feet under. The source was Fang’s mouth where a string of red syrup snaked its way down onto her uniform ending on the concrete. Vanille took in the scene for what seemed like an eternity, which would, later on, be realized as seconds, before forcing her body into action.  


“Does it hurt? Are your teeth ok? Hold on let me just,” Vanille squat beside the injured bartender and pulled her shirt over her head. Another moment that would become a blush triggering memory, but that didn’t occur to her then. Fang was bleeding, and her shirt could be used to apply pressure to stop bleeding.  


“Doesn’t hurt much,” was what Fang replied a little sloppily due to Vanille dabbing at her lips.  


“Spit so I can get a clear view of your mouth. I need to find the wound.” More red liquid hit the pavement as Fang did as she was told. “It’s the inside of your bottom and top lips as well as your gums. Mandible seems fine, no fractures or damage. Alveolar process is good… gums bruised with minor openings. Don’t worry, the mouth heals fast.” More pressure was applied. The shirt was ruined.  


“Is it going to need stitches?”  


“No, it’s just superficial- don’t talk for a minute, okay? I have to stop the bleeding.”  


It was quiet, but the determination in Vanille’s eyes was as pronounced as a midnight thunderstorm that rattled windows and shook trees. It was captivating and intriguing. Fang was slightly taken aback by the professionalism the young woman held as she bent over holding the shirt off her back to someone’s bloody wound. The last thing the bartender would have guessed was that this pink-haired party girl dropped out of medical school. She almost laughed, but the drenched fabric held to her face reminded her of the circumstances.  


“Alright, it’s still a little bloody, but it looks like it should clear up soon.” Vanille took a breath and folded the stained shirt. “Who did this?”  


“A customer wouldn’t leave an older gentleman alone, so I asked her politely to leave. She wasn’t having it and took a watch to my face like brass knuckles. She was a real sweetheart afterward too, taking off running before I could call the police. Sorry to drag you out here so late, I just didn’t want to have to drive myself to the ER. Seems like I don’t need to now, though.”  


Vanille let out a sigh and looked around. It was cold and dark and wet. It was also approaching 11 PM. “I’m just glad you texted me.”  


Fang laughed and grabbed the shirt to clean her mouth off. “I am too. I didn’t know you dropped out of med school, party girl. You make quite the student.” She pointed to Vanille’s exposed lace bra using her soiled shirt.  


The partially nude woman blushed and grabbed for the shirt even though it could no longer be worn. “Enjoy the show while it lasts, bartender.” She rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her pink hair with visible worry. “In all seriousness Fang, I’d like you to stay over at my place so I can properly clean the wound and place gauze.”  


All Vanille received was a hum as Fang slowly stood steadying herself against the brick siding of the bar. She was vulnerable and hurt which was something Vanille never thought Fang would be. It looked wrong. Fang walked along the wall pausing at the sidewalk, cautious, but the pink-haired woman scampered out of the shadow of protection the building offered and helped her to the car. The ride home was one of silence and visual absurdity. A medical school dropout wearing only a bra drove while a bartender shoved a stained shirt into her mouth. Vanille prayed her mother would never find out about this- not because she didn’t finish school, but because she was practically half naked driving around town. She tried to push her mother to the back of her mind.  


It was quiet until Fang said, “I will.”  


The hitch in silence startled Vanille. No one had asked a question of any kind or even made a statement. Her pink curls rocked back and forth as she shook her head coming to the conclusion that Fang was traumatized and talking to the air. She responded with a questioning tone, “You are what?”  


“Enjoying it while I can.”  


Maybe it was the sound of the tires on the ground beneath them or the rhythmic lights dancing on and off the inside of the car- something was making Fang feel bold. It was a leap, of course, since they had only met twice, and both times seemed unconventional, but there was a switch flipped somewhere, and it had turned on a buzz in the brunette’s chest. Vanille, on the other hand, though she had been pulled into a guessing game racking her brain for what the woman beside her was enjoying. There was no way it could be the aftermath of the makeshift brass knuckles. The rain? The city lights? Or maybe Fang was just excited she was getting off work early. The pink-haired woman was clueless. She didn’t notice the side glances thrown her way the rest of the ride, but she could tell you the bones in your skull, and that made Fang smile a little.  


The walk to the apartment was swift, much to Vanille’s luck, and they both slipped inside. One woman sunk into the couch while the other slipped into a clean shirt. It was quiet for a little bit after that. Vanille found her way into the kitchen to make some tea and brought it to Fang who had become completely lax on the couch heavy with exhaustion.  


“Wait for this to cool. It has ginger in it...it will boost your immune system and help fight infections from setting in your wounds.” Vanille handed the cup gingerly to the other woman.  


“Thanks,” Fang took a small pause to sip at the tea. “You’re a really smart sweetheart, you know that?”  


“I guess so. I’m just glad my three years of studying came in handy for something.”  


“You looked good.” Fang’s statement caught Vanille off guard. Her heart beat lightly in her chest. The brunette continued. “It’s not every day you get a young girl stripping and saving your ass.”  


Vanille laughed and blushed. “That watch must have hit more than your mouth if you’re saying stuff like this.”  


“Hmm. I thought about texting you. A lot, actually. I stopped myself because I thought it would be weird for a 25-year-old bartender to text a girl who was barely 21.”  


"It’s not weird- I’m always open to talk.” Vanille’s response was all too eager. “I don’t really hang out with the people I used to, so I get a little lonely. I thought about texting you, but I didn’t want to be a bother…”  


Fang shook her head and smiled faintly. She set her tea down on the side table. Slowly, she reached for Vanille’s hands and cupped them with her own. The warmth of the tea mug radiated through her soft hands onto the brunette’s. They looked at each other with mixed emotions. Fang’s lip was still slightly bloody and Vanille’s hair was frizzy, but none of that seemed to register at that moment. Neither realized it happened until afterward as they sat on the couch side by side pressed close together. It was a brief kiss that tasted like candied metal and felt like the warmth of the mug clasped between their hands. The streetlights shone through the cracked blinds carving geometric shapes into the newly united lovers.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I feel inspired to write about these two. The idea of Fang in a bartender outfit is probably one of my favorite things. Leave me feedback!


End file.
